


Shut Your Eyes

by chzo_mythos



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-19
Updated: 2013-09-19
Packaged: 2017-12-27 00:58:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 252
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/972437
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chzo_mythos/pseuds/chzo_mythos
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They’ve been running on pure adrenaline the past few hours.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Shut Your Eyes

They’ve been running on pure adrenaline the past few hours. Sherlock was accustomed to going without sleep for so long, as was John in some respects, but since returning to London (and getting a job at the clinic) the doctor did have a set routine of sorts, getting at least four hours most nights. It’s been two full days, though (three for Sherlock, who’d been up since Wednesday), and it’s not surprising that when they get back to the flat (still trying to catch their breath after helping Lestrade track down a kidnapper and getting involved in a rather broad chase), when they both automatically plop down on the sofa, John falls asleep within minutes. 

It takes Sherlock longer than he’d like to admit to notice, instead texting Lestrade, telling him where the kidnapper would be—but John’s soft snores take him out of his own head. He’s half sprawled on the sofa, legs slightly akimbo, head resting on Sherlock’s thigh. Sherlock blinks once, processing the information, before tossing his phone carelessly to the coffee table and reaching out, letting the pads of his fingers brush over John’s forehead. Still asleep, John’s forehead merely crinkles slightly and he makes a small noise before nuzzling further against Sherlock’s trouser clad leg. 

He has work to do, samples to look at, a gallbladder to inject—but that can all wait a bit, he supposes. He wont sleep just yet, but he’s, for once, perfectly content sitting still and doing nothing, listening to John breathe.


End file.
